


Detention with Mr. Dixon

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Series: with Mr. Dixon [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Love, M/M, Mild Language, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn has a crush on his teacher, Mr. Dixon.  He ends up in Mr. Dixon's detention after school.  His friends think it'll lead to something, but it isn't what he expects at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention with Mr. Dixon

**Author's Note:**

> There was a prompt on twdkinkmeme for a Daryl/Glenn high school AU where Glenn has a crush on his teacher. It was inspired by that but didn't really fit the prompt. Also inspired by song 'Teenage Dirtbag'. :)

Glenn yawns into his hand, looking up into the clock over the door. There's about five minutes to go before the last class of the day. He so does not want to be here. He's already thinking about next year at Michigan University, already in with early acceptance. There is only a month left until graduation. Glenn daydreams while Mrs. Grimes draws diagrams on the chalkboard to explain imaginary numbers and infinity symbols. He stifles a giggle as he thinks about the dormitory he'll be moving into, a possibly hunky jock roommate who would walk around in his towel. He imagines the towel falling off to reveal the round perfect ass, the prominent cock shoved in his face as he demands service from Glenn. Oh, he'll be happy to oblige. The smooth youthful skin somehow slowly fades, the bulging muscles still there, but tanned, the sculpted stomach connecting to the wide chest and shoulders, and a tattoo??? 

Glenn's chin slips off his hand and hits the desk. Everyone's laughing, even the nice Mrs. Grimes. Glenn searches for his composure, and thankfully, the bell rings. Mrs. Grimes gives him a look that says she understands what it's like for a senior to spend the last month in school, making Glenn blush more as he heads to his next class. The halls are crowded with kids trying to get to their last class. He bangs into the group of Lacrosse players (why are jocks always blocking the way?), trips over some kid's book, turns the corner by the crowded water fountain, sneaks past the group of popular girls (lead by Queen Andrea and her sister Amy), waves to Carol and Jacqui carrying some weird plaster sculpture to the art hall, and gets a strange look from Shane Walsh the school cop. He makes it just in time before the bell rings, lands in the last back row seat, and fixes the cap on his head. His last class of the day is AP U.S. History. It's a course he doesn't have to take, but he has not missed this class all year. Glenn waits for their teacher to arrive. 

The girls twirl hair in a finger and bat their eyes when Mr. D. Dixon walks in. He smells like cigarette smoke and motorcycle grease even from the back where Glenn is sitting. According to the stories, it's the first year he's teaching full time at a high school. He's in his middle or late thirties, has this flat scraggy haircut that sticks up from place to place and looks too good, and a pair of light blue eyes cool enough to make his students shiver in their seats. He doesn't even own a sports jacket; Glenn believes all the rumors. Mr. mysterious-D Dixon walks in a leather vest (it's too hot now for the leather jacket) over a thin button down flannel pattern shirt, the sleeves too tight trying to confine those arms. He doesn't talk too much but when he does, it's in a smooth southern drawl that makes Glenn sleepy and yearn for Georgia peaches. Mr. Dixon has his motorcycle helmet on his desk next to his keys and three pictures of a black cat, a French bulldog, and his motorcycle with a sunset background. Glenn (and all the girls of the school) are glad there is no picture of a Mrs. Dixon in a flowery frame. 

Mr. Dixon barks at them for their homework. Paper sheets are passed forward. Glenn has not done his, only for the chance to get a little extra minute at the end of the day with his favorite teacher. It hasn't happened yet all year; Glenn wonders if Mr. Dixon even grades them. Mr. Dixon makes the class discuss about the difference in weapons used from World War I to Persian Gulf, and how weapons advancement in the 20th century impacted and affected the U.S. versus the rest of the world. Glenn is only mildly interested in the topic (but it's actually really interesting). He ends up staring at Mr. Dixon, leaning back into the front of his desk, fingers running over the scruff on his chin, and how he would love to feel facial hair against his balls when he's getting the best head ever-- Oh, fuck. 

Glenn tries to make himself small. It always happens. He has the biggest schoolboy love-crush-thing over Mr. Dixon. Lately, his over imaginative mind thinks a little too in detail. He gets a boner inside his jeans and is ashamed. Mr. Dixon's cool blue eyes scan the entire room. Glenn prays they pass over him. They do, but come back. Boom. It is the sound of his heart in his ears. 

"What do you think, Glenn?" Mr. Dixon's guttural voice just makes him harder and sweaty. 

"Uh," he clears his throat. What the hell were they talking about? Oh fuck it... "I think... the rapid development of advanced weaponry such as stealth aircrafts would benefit the nation's placement in the new technological warfare capability ranking but it is detrimental to the poorer countries in like Africa or the Middle East who are still fighting to have a fair government thus encouraging lobbyists and illegal weapons dealers a higher priority rather than necessities such as sufficient food, water and housing and equal opportunity education so instead of more weapons the nations have to work together for improvement of living conditions and maybe that will negate the need for war at all so weaponry won't be a priority... is what I think..." 

Glenn takes a much needed deep breath after the run-on sentence. Mr. Dixon is glaring at him. Maggie, who is sitting next to him is saying, Dude, shaking her head vigorously. Glenn gulps. Mr. Dixon walks back towards him. His hand lands on his desk. Those too blue eyes scan him up and down. Glenn tries to cross his legs so his teacher won't see the tent of his pants. Glenn is somewhat scared so he concentrates on the dirt under the fingernails and how strong and rough the hand looks. He's cursing at himself for his teenage hormones not helping at all. 

"That was really good, Glenn, but we were talking about whether U.S. military interfered or not in 'Nam in the seventies. If you want, we can discuss your topic after class." 

"You mean...?" 

"Detention. Three o'clock." 

Glenn doesn't know if he should high-five himself or be absolutely terrified. 

\--- 

Glenn remains in the seat after everyone's gone. His phone buzzes in his pocket. It's probably Beth or Jim or Miguel asking him for a ride. He hopes the constant buzzing goes away. Mr. Dixon is sitting behind his desk, his legs crossed and booted feet resting on the top. He is sweating a little, praying that people just stop calling him. Mr. Dixon has his hands folded behind his head. Glenn wipes his forehead, thankful for his phone that has stopped vibrating in his pocket. Mr. Dixon is staring at him. 

Glenn makes a little sigh. "Mr. Dixon, I'm really sorry about today. I usually pay attention but... I don't know. I was thinking about other stuff. I'm sorry." 

Mr. Dixon is silently watching him. Glenn fidgets a little. He hears a group of girls running down the hallway, screaming something about being late to drama practice. The door is shut tight so he can't see who they are. Mr. Dixon doesn't even turn to the sound. He is lazily staring him down. And Glenn can't stop his stupid mouth from blathering on. "So uh, I've never been in detention before. I'm not saying I'm like a brownnoser or something but I just haven't ever been in trouble. I have this scholarship to Michigan, and I'll be studying engineering like my dad wants me to. I don't really like engineering but I can't say no to my dad, you know? Uh, so, I've never gotten into trouble, so I don't really know what to do... in detention..." 

Mr. Dixon smirks. He goes, "Shut up." 

"Oh...kay..." 

Mr. Dixon doesn't make him do anything. In the 'official after school detention', Glenn knows the vice principal makes the kids write out a paper, single-spaced, about what they had done wrong and how they will fix it. Since honest to god, he's never been in detention, it seems like a good way to spend an hour rather than sitting there doing nothing but stare at Mr. Dixon. Mr. Dixon has his iPhone out and playing a game or texting or something. He looks mildly amused by whatever the hell he's doing. Glenn shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The hour passes finally and Glenn raises his hand to get attention. 

"What?" 

"I... uh... It's been an hour. Can I go now?" 

Mr. Dixon checks the clock. He mumbles something to himself. He points with his chin to the door. Glenn supposes he can go now so he picks up his bag to get the hell out of there. 

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Dixon." 

"Glenn, did you do your homework today?" 

"Er, no?" 

"You have detention tomorrow." Glenn could be imagining it, but he swears Mr. Dixon has a smirk when he's walking out of the classroom. 

\--- 

"So what happened? Deets!" Andrea puts her arm over his shoulders. Glenn had texted Amy that he was sorry for not meeting her at the mall yesterday because he had detention with Mr. Dixon. The story had passed unto her sister. Queen Andrea is a sort-of best friend, because a Queen is incomplete without a gay best friend, she'd said. To that, Glenn had yelped, 'I'm not gay!' That had been in sophomore year before he had realized maybe he really preferred men - _men_ \- over girls. Andrea, like how she'd figured out his sexual preference before he had, had figured out about his little crush on his history teacher. She hadn't told anyone yet, like she'd promised. 

"Nothing happened. He just sat there texting the whole time. I sat there... staring." 

"Oh boo." Andrea pouts disappointedly. 

"Woah. Was something supposed to happen at detention?" Glenn picks at the plate of French fries on his tray. 

"Mr. Dixon could have sent you to Mr. Grimes' detention hall. Or even sent you to Mr. Greene's office. But he gave you a private detention, all by yourselves. Maybe you could you know..." Andrea winks at him. 

Glenn has no idea what she's talking about. "Uh, what?" 

"Oh Glenn. You are so clueless sometimes." 

\--- 

Today, Glenn hands in his homework. Mr. Dixon's homework usually are way too easy to spend too much time on. One paragraph on the reading. But he had spent about an hour on it, three excellently typed up pages on peace rallies of the seventies. Today, Glenn has to take the last window seat, three rows back. Mr. Dixon sits in the same position he had during yesterday's detention, calling on a kid and the next for a discussion. 

Glenn isn't looking forward to detention. He wants to ask him if it's okay to go to Mr. Grimes' detention instead. He'll admit to not doing work and not paying attention. He just doesn't want to sit there looking guilty because he has the hots for his teacher. Class is over way too quickly. Glenn crouches in his seat, his thick textbook under his chin. Mr. Dixon remains where he is, but he's looking through the stack of homework they'd handed in. 

One of the jocks knock and walk in. Glenn wonders if he has detention, too. Theodore - T-Dog - greets him, "Yo, Glenn." 

"Hey, T." 

"What cha still doing here, man?" 

"I have detention." 

T-Dog's eyebrow raises. "Sucks for you, dude." 

Glenn is about to explain the situation. Mr. Dixon shoots him a look. "Shut up." 

Glenn watches T-Dog talking to Mr. Dixon. Mr. Dixon looks a little bored but listens, and sends the student out dismissively. T-Dog shrugs and leaves, giving him a short nod. Mr. Dixon goes back to the stack of homework, not really reading or marking. Glenn hopes his homework will get him on Mr. Dixon's good side, and he'll be allowed to leave. His fingers are rubbing over the smooth desktop. He's kind of sweating again. The school has been too cheap to turn the air conditioner on lately. Mr. Dixon stops at one paper. He is reading. His mouth curls up in amusement. Those ice blues hit him hard. Glenn is set to immobile. 

Mr. Dixon holds up the typed paper pinched between two fingers. "You write this drivel?" 

Glenn swallows hard. "Yes?" 

"The assignment was one paragraph. It takes you three pages to summarize? Are you sure you got into Michigan?" 

The insult hurts and Glenn is sort of angry. He knows it shows on his face. But Mr. Dixon seems more amused. 

"I worked so hard on that!" 

"I bet you did, lil' man. But this kind of ass-kissin' ain't somethin' I'm gonna take." 

"I wasn't trying to--" 

"Just shut up." 

If Glenn had any lesser self-control, he thinks he would have yelled at him or thrown the textbook at his head. But he just sits there, doing as Mr. Dixon has told him to. It's because he actually cares what Mr. Dixon thinks of him. Mr. Dixon is usually lethargic, doesn't have a favorite nor someone he plain does not care for. It's actually surprising he knows his students' names. Mr. Grimes, the vice principal, seems to frequently ask for Mr. Dixon's advise. The school cop, Shane, seems to hate that; until Mr. Dixon had come to the school, Shane had been Mr. Grimes' number two. (But maybe the rumor about Shane and Mrs. Grimes may have contributed.) Mr. Dixon's nonchalance is one of the things Glenn really likes about him. So he's upset from the insult. 

"Then what sort of ass-kissing do you want?" After he says it, he punches himself inside his head, because it isn't what he'd meant. "I meant--" 

"You ain't got what it takes to do the kind of ass-kissin' I want. Now get out of here." 

Glenn is so confused by that statement. The hour hasn't passed and he's glad to get out. But damn his Korean upbringing and etiquette. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Dixon." 

"Glenn. For this (he's holding up the pages) you have detention tomorrow." 

\--- 

Andrea hoots and high-fives Amy when Glenn spills out what happened. Glenn doesn't get it. 

"You should let him know what sort of ass-kissing _you_ want next time." Amy's pointy elbow jabs him twice at his side. 

"Ow. I don't even know what any of that means." 

"It'll be like getting extra-curricular lessons on how to be a better ass-kisser." 

"Erm..." Glenn's mind is slowly coiling around that. "You know he's a teacher, right? Like, a real one?" 

"It's so much hotter. You might be clueless, but I must compliment you for having spectacular taste." 

Glenn laughs weakly. He's positive Mr. Dixon hadn't meant it the way the sisters think. He works hard to change the subject, and they spend the rest of their lunch period gossiping about Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, Shane, and Grimes' son, a freshmen named Carl. 

\--- 

Glenn clears his throat but doesn't get a response. He raises his hand but the blue eyes glance over it. Mr. Dixon is on his phone again, thumbs busy with whatever he's doing. He has to go to the bathroom badly. His legs hurt from holding it in. 

"Mr. Dixon--" 

His teacher sighs. "What?" 

"I have to go to the bathroom..." 

The one corner of Mr. Dixon's mouth turns up. "Bad?" 

"Please?" Glenn begs. 

"Alright. Go on." 

"Thank you!!" Glenn picks up his stuff and rushes out. 

"Hey, Glenn!" Mr. Dixon's voice stops him. 

"Y..yes?" 

"You'll have to make up the rest tomorrow afternoon." 

\--- 

It's a Friday and there is a pep rally for the school's Lacrosse team. Glenn usually is ungrateful when Andrea or Amy drags him to the school's gym, sitting amongst the kids wearing school colors and clapping for the jocks. Boys gaggle at the cheerleaders and the flashes of their bloomers. Glenn wonders why the Queen and her sister aren't in the squad, but then they're pretty enough to not have to show off their bodies to garner attention. He sits with his chin propped up on his hands. He listens to Mr. Greene and Mr. Grimes say a few good things about the team and something about school spirit. Maggie (Mr. Greene's daughter) is the class president and she also makes a speech. Glenn is bored even when the team enters, whooping and waving fists in the air, the cheerleaders jumping and screaming. The school mascot, a fuzzy tailed squirrel, does a half-assed cartwheel in the middle of the gym (it's poor Jimmy in there, who's only doing it for his girlfriend Beth, the head cheerleader). Glenn sighs, scanning the gym. He sees the clump of teachers by the exits. 

The pair of blue eyes are on him. Mr. Dixon, who has his uninterested face on, arms crossed over his chest, is leaning back against the wall. When Mr. Dixon sees Glenn looking at him, his lips turn up. Glenn is cursing inside his head. He prays the pep rally is over soon, and he can shuffle out among the kids unnoticed. 

And he almost does, until a strong hand grabs him by the back of his collar. He yelps. His hands are flailing to get the attention of Andrea, whimpering for help, but he's being dragged down the opposite way from the exit. Everyone's out in the field and the parking lot, waiting for the game to start. Even the teachers have all gone out. Glenn has no choice but to pray for intervention. He's rather surprised when he ends up in the teacher parking lot. He's standing in front of the really too cool for school motorcycle and an amused looking Mr. Dixon. 

"Uh, Mr. Dixon?" 

"Shut up." Mr. Dixon says but he doesn't sound mean. In fact, he never have, he just makes Glenn feel things he shouldn't be feeling. Mr. Dixon is thrusting a helmet at his chest. Glenn gulps twice and shoves the thing over his head. Mr. Dixon flashes him that smirk before putting a helmet over his head. He slings his long leg over the motorcycle. He waits for Glenn for a full minute before barking, "Get on." 

Glenn's legs are shaking as he climbs on the motorcycle. The sloped seat makes his crotch unintentionally meet Mr. Dixon's tight jean clad ass. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. The engine starts up with a really loud roar. Mr. Dixon's boot kicks it into gear and they're blasting away from the school. The speed of the machine scares him a little. His hands land on the sides of Mr. Dixon's leather vest. Mr. Dixon doesn't respond, so Glenn holds as tight as he can. 

\--- 

The motorcycle stops in front of a small house. It's a regular old house in a neighborhood much like his own with a white mail box and a freshly painted red door. There is a big truck parked in the driveway leaving no room for the motorcycle. Glenn gets off the motorcycle with sea legs. He pulls the helmet off, receiving a short chuckle from his teacher. He pats down his hair to get rid of helmet hair. He's in awe because Mr. Dixon's hair still looks perfect. 

He follows his teacher into the house with reluctance and a little excitement. According to the rumors (probably started by Andrea or Amy), Mr. Dixon lives in a shack in the woods with trophies of animal taxidermies and Civil War era guns. Glenn is confirming the rumors to be untrue as he steps inside the house. It smells like chocolate chip cookies and burning firewood. He's still patting down his hair when a little dog waddles down the hall to sniff his sneakers. Glenn doesn't know why he's at Mr. Dixon's house, but it is a little thrilling. The dog follows Mr. Dixon down the hall to the kitchen. His heart feels a little skip and ache when Mr. Dixon's booms out a rather sweet, "Honey, come here. Meet Glenn." 

Glenn prepares to face Mrs. Dixon. The dog returns to him, sniffs him once more. He follows the little dog to the kitchen. Glenn clears his throat to greet Mrs. Dixon. His mouth drops as Mr. Dixon is holding up a fat black cat, waving its cute front paw towards him. "Say, Hi, Glenn." 

The cat meows, twists and drops down. It disappears into a dark corner of the house. 

He doesn't refuse the cookie Mr. Dixon offers him (he bakes?!). Mr. Dixon drinks coffee but doesn't pour any for Glenn, though he's been drinking that stuff for years. He just sits awkwardly in the tall kitchen stool, eyes rolling over the walls. There is a big abstract painting. There are photographs everywhere, mostly animals lying on roadsides or the sunset. The photographs extend into the living room and he's staring at this crossbow sitting majestically on the coffee table. It suits his teacher and it contrasts the house at the same time. It looks heavy and Glenn wonders how Mr. Dixon's arms would look when he's holding it up. 

"So, uh, did you paint that?" Glenn asks, pointing at the painting. He's avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Mr. Dixon grunts affirmatively. So he adds, "I think it's great." 

"Whatever," Mr. Dixon says into his mug. 

Glenn is itching to ask what he's doing at Mr. Dixon's house. Call it Andrea's influence or his imagination, but he's hoping Mr. Dixon will do what he's been thinking about since getting on the back of the motorcycle. And he's thinking about the satisfying hardness of the kitchen table against his back when he's being pummeled senselessly. He's thinking about the couch or Mr. Dixon's bed (he can only imagine what it looks like) or even the parquet floor of the kitchen. It doesn't matter. Teenage hormones are at their worst. Glenn just says, "I have to go home now." 

Mr. Dixon's eyebrow rises. 

"Thanks for the, um, cookies, and meeting your cat and dog and stuff." 

Mr. Dixon gets up and Glenn backs up. He's slowly cornered into the refrigerator and cabinets. He can smell the leather and faint aftershave lotion of Mr. Dixon's skin. He's also mesmerized how bigger his teacher seems, even though he's not much taller than he is. He focuses on the beauty mark somewhat hidden by facial hair on his cheek. And oh my god, he can't breathe properly. Mr. Dixon's hand reaches forward, a rough thumb caressing the corner of his mouth. Glenn closes his eyes. 

"There ya go. You got chocolate on your lips." 

The hand and the presence is gone and Glenn stares owlish at Mr. Dixon. He's shaking and he's got tears forming in his eyes from the unintentional tease. He mumbles a bye and steps out of the house. The little dog follows him to the door. 

"Glenn!" Mr. Dixon's calling him. 

"What?" He shoots back a little meanly. "I have detention again? What did I do this time?" 

Mr. Dixon is laughing. "I don't care if you don't learn nothin' from my class. But learn one thing. If there's something you want, go for it. Stop letting other people decide for you." 

The heavy red door shuts in his face. He walks all the way back to school for his car. The game's still going on. He sits in his car for an hour, ignoring calls from his friends, three from his mom. He finally drives out of the parking lot, stops by the Seven-Eleven to get a giant slurpee, sucks half the sugar stuff out in one gulp for the biggest and longest brain freeze ever. He wants to get Mr. Dixon out of his head. It's unsuccessful. But when the coldness is gone, his head is also clear. 

\--- 

Glenn woken by his sisters. He grumbles but drives them to their dance class. He comes home and mows the lawn like his dad asked him to. There's no food in the house because mom didn't go grocery shopping yet. She's left him a twenty on the kitchen top. He takes a good long shower but skips beating off because he doesn't feel like it. He puts on his favorite tee shirt and jeans, shoving his feet into his sneakers. It's too warm to blow dry his hair so he puts on his favorite baseball cap. He calls Amy to see if she wants to meet up for lunch. She says she's grounded all weekend. 

"What happened yesterday at the game?" 

"Well, it didn't go exactly as planned. I'm not allowed to use the phone all weekend either. I'll tell you on Monday." Amy hangs up with a small apology. Glenn leaves the house, rolls down all the windows of his car to let the hot summer air out. 

He texts Andrea but she's out with her new boyfriend. Everyone else has plans or are grounded. Glenn wants to know what happened, but also is glad he missed the game completely. He decides to be alone all day and drives over to the fast food place at the shopping center. He winces when he enters and regrets not using the drive through. Carl Grimes waves at him and so do Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Glenn walks over to say hello. Mr. Grimes asks him if he had been at the game yesterday. Glenn replies no, because he had a headache and had gone home. Mr. Grimes takes him at his word. Mrs. Grimes smiles at him. He waves at his teachers, picking up his orders to go. He eats behind the wheels, driving in circles around the neighborhood. By the third time he sees the old man and his old dog (who waves at him for the third time) Glenn drives away to the other part of town. 

He finishes the last bite of the burger, crumpling up the greasy paper it came in. He looks both ways before crossing the intersection. He's astonished that he's ended up in the one neighborhood he shouldn't be in. He sees the motorcycle parked on the street, the little dog on its leash, and Mr. Dixon washing his truck with a soapy sponge with a burning cigarette hanging off his lips. He's wearing sunglasses against the bright sunlight. For some reason Glenn stops, parks and gets out of his car. He stands against it, watching Mr. Dixon. He's wearing a tee shirt without sleeves, showing off those biceps. They look better than he had ever imagined. His jeans are all torn up and wet sticking to his long legs. Mr. Dixon pauses to whip the cigarette from his mouth. Glenn is noticed. 

"It's a fuckin' Saturday." 

"I know." Glenn says back. The cussing doesn't have any hostility in it. It just feels like a part of Mr. Dixon. He actually kind of likes it. 

"C'mere." 

Glenn ends up soaking his favorite tee and jeans from soaping up the other side of the big truck, and Mr. Dixon hosing down the vehicle. Glenn may or may not have been a victim of over sprayed water. He is offered a towel and follows Mr. Dixon into the house. He has to peel off his wet sneakers and socks, dropping them by the door the same as his teacher. He's trying to pat his hair dry when Mr. Dixon tells him to follow him. In to the bedroom. Glenn can't help shivering as he enters the sun-warmed room. This might be the most private part of Mr. Dixon he will ever get to see. He loves it and he's scared at the same time. Mr. Dixon pulls out some clothes that look too big for Glenn. He takes it and goes into the bathroom to change. He can't even take in all the details because he's so shaken up. He changes as quickly as possible and exits, holding his wet clothes. 

His jaw drops when he goes back into the bedroom. Mr. Dixon's changed out of his jeans for sweatpants that hangs too low on his waist. He's not wearing a shirt. Glenn can't help but stare at the broad shoulders, the straight back, the tattoos of crawling demons over his shoulder blade. He's so thankful for the big clothes, because he's got a boner he wants to hide forever. Mr. Dixon shrugs saying he's got no more shirts to wear. Glenn lets Mr. Dixon wash and dry his clothes for him. He awkwardly stands around the kitchen as his teacher makes a new pot of coffee. 

"Um, Mr. Dixon." 

"Christ. I told you it's fucking Saturday." 

"Uh...?" There are question marks floating around above his head. 

"I ain't your teacher today. You can stop callin' me Mr. Dixon." 

"Then what should I call you?" 

Mr. Dixon pours two mugs of steaming coffee. He pours milk and sugar into both of them. Glenn smiles at the fact they drink their coffee the same way. One is handed over to Glenn. Mr. Dixon is looking at him expectantly. 

"Daryl." 

Glenn hides his feelings behind the mug. The mysterious D. The name suits him so perfectly. All the girls had been trying to figure out what Mr. Dixon's first name could be. And here, he's being handed it as nonchalantly as a mug of coffee. But he can't bring himself to say it. 

Glenn ends up hanging around playing with the big black cat who suddenly likes him a whole lot. It's lazily stretched on his lap. Glenn studies the crossbow sitting on the coffee table. Mr. Dixon, Daryl, brings him his dried clothes. He sits comfortably on the carpet to listen to Daryl explaining about the crossbow, the entire history of it from way back when, other ancient weapons like swords and spears and armors, the ranges from Middle East to Europe to Asia. It's easy to listen to Daryl's voice, and Glenn even learns that his teacher doesn't favor firearms though he knows as much about them as the stab-able objects. He says that's why he'd gone into history, to learn more about weapons, and even though he'd rather use them (on what?!) and read about them. He has to teach to make rent and all that. Glenn revels in the personal facts he's learned about Mr. Dixon. Glenn wants to tell him about himself. Not that there are anything share-worthy... 

Listening to his teacher's smooth southern voice has turned the day into night, sitting position to lying on his stomach. The cat is sitting on his back but it's okay. Glenn stares at Mr. Dixon's bare feet. Mr. Dixon orders them a pizza for dinner and a six-pack for himself. Glenn easily scarfs down three slices. He's a teenager and he's always hungry. His teacher looks at him with this smug expression. His third bottle is hanging off of his fingertips. Being full and warm makes Glenn sleepy. He wills himself to not fall asleep. Mr. Dixon gives him the opening, telling him it's late and he should go home. 

"Thanks, Mr. Di... Daryl." 

Mr. Dixon doesn’t say a cool casual line like Glenn expects him to. He just grunts, leaning against the door frame. 

"I..." Glenn pauses. "I thought about what you said. There is something I want, but I... I want to go to college and everything, even if I don't want to study engineering. But it's so easy to see myself dropping out because I don't know what I want to do and delivering pizzas or something." 

"Yeah?" 

"What I really want..." _Is you_ , but Glenn can't bring himself to say. He just smiles and bids his teacher a good night. "Good night, Daryl." 

"Night." 

It's when he's turning on to his street where he realizes how easily he called him Daryl rather than the proper Mr. Dixon. He's in bed not sleeping because of the scent of Daryl's clothes still remaining on his skin, is when he remembers that he doesn’t have detention on Monday. 

\--- 

Glenn doesn't tell Andrea or Amy though they are suspicious of what he'd done over the weekend. They both go back and forth saying Glenn is glowing and he must have had a hot date. Glenn shakes the blush from creeping up to his face. 

"What exactly does a date pertain to?" He asks. He's honestly just curious. 

Andrea smiles wickedly. "You know, a guy calls you over, you spend the entire day together, preferably in bed." 

Amy pokes her sister. "Or you just hang out. Talk about stuff you can't talk about with anyone else. Grab a coffee or dinner. You know." 

Glenn ponders over it while the girls make a list of what people do on dates. He'd spent the day together with Daryl. Though not in bed. He'd been told things Mr. Dixon probably never told anyone else. They had coffee. They had dinner. He'd even shared about his doubts about college; something he'd not discussed with anyone, not even his friends. But it so wasn't a date. It was like an outside the class teacher-student meeting. He thinks. 

"So who is he?" Andrea asks, rolling her eyes at a corny date regimen Amy had just suggested. "Do we know him? Does he go to this school? Spill!" 

Glenn changes the subject. "It wasn't a date. Anyway, you guys left me hanging on Saturday. So why did you get grounded?" 

Amy squeaks from Andrea's pinch. But the bell rings before Glenn gets the whole story out from the sisters. And the rest of the school is banned from talking about last Friday's big event. Glenn sighs, hoping he'll get the story out from Amy later that day. 

\--- 

Mr. Dixon doesn't treat him any more different than before. He also doesn't give Glenn detention for not doing his homework assignment. He's barely acknowledged when he tells Mr. Dixon goodbye after class. It stings so much more than it should. 

\--- 

Amy had her phone confiscated by her parents. Glenn doesn't get to talk to her at all outside of school and Andrea won't say one word. He drifts into the art hall to find Carol but she doesn't know what happened either. He has to stay for thirty minutes, posing with a ceramic cat so she can draw him. He cuts last period because he doesn’t want to go in ten minutes late. 

The next day, Mr. Dixon doesn't say anything about it. 

\--- 

It's Thursday and Glenn is thwacked over the head by Maggie. He rubs his head as she asks him with a big smile. 

"So who are you going to the prom with? We still have tickets if you haven't bought them yet." 

Glenn has honest-to-god forgotten about it. He shrugs saying he doesn't have a date so he won't make it. Maggie suggests a bunch of girls and boys he can take. Glenn just shakes his head at that. He tells her he doesn't feel like going. Maggie wraps a hand around his shoulder for comfort, telling him she'll save him two just in case. 

There's a substitute in Mr. Dixon's class and Glenn has the biggest headache. He is excused and the nurse lets him go home early. The headache worsens in the parking lot when he sees the motorcycle parked in the teacher's lot. 

\--- 

Andrea and Amy and the group of girls they usually hang out with surround him, giving him big stuffed-bra hugs each telling him everything will be fine. He doesn't know what's going on, not exactly. Then Andrea tells him, "You'll find another guy soon. Someone who'll treat you right and better than the asshole who used you and dumped you." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"The way you've been moping around school all week? You don't have to tell us. We know." 

Andrea tries to act like a grown up and Glenn lets her. She doesn't know about any of it. Amy says she wishes she didn't have a date because she would so go with Glenn to the prom. He escapes the girls and their hugs and the subject by saying he has some work to do in the library. He skips history again. Mr. Dixon's bike isn't in the parking lot. 

\--- 

It's Saturday and the whole town is busy with kids getting ready for prom. Glenn hasn't realized what a big event this is. He shrugs at his parents who he's taking and if he had a tux. He tells them he's not going and leaves the house. He doesn't try to phone the blonde sisters because he knows they're busy with getting ready. He ends up driving to the mall, buys two lattes at the fancy coffee place, drives around some more until they get cold and somehow has stopped in front of Mr. Dixon's house. Glenn fixes the cap on his head, takes the lattes sitting in a carrier, goes up to the door, takes a big deep breath and knocks. He has to wait and continue knocking for five minutes before he hears something inside. He grins when Mr. Dixon opens the door. 

"It's fuckin' Saturday." 

"I know." 

Mr. Dixon doesn't tell him to scram or shut the door in his face. He doesn't invite him in, but the door remains open. Glenn enters, offering him the coffees. Mr. Dixon grumbles about the temperature of the drink but doesn't refuse. His house is a literal mess, boxes everywhere, clothes all over the place. It looks like he's either packing to leave in a hurry or the attic threw up. Glenn's afraid to ask, but he has to know. 

"Mr. Dixon, I meant, Daryl, I meant, Mr. Dixon, are you going somewhere?" He pointed to the boxes. 

"Hell, yeah." 

"Uh... So suddenly?" 

"I had been planning this for like months! I cannot miss it." 

Glenn blinks several times to push back the forming tears. He doesn't have to know where and why. But he has to let him know. 

"But before you go! I have to tell you something." 

"What?" 

Glenn mans up, grips the front of Daryl's shirt and pulls the man in for a kiss. There is a sound of surprise. Glenn's shut his eyes tight because he's scared. But a large hand presses against his lower back to pull their bodies closer together. Lips open up to fit together. Glenn can taste him, a little of faint cigarette and a little of the latte. It feels like his mind has gone blank from this. And he parts. 

"I'm in love with you, Daryl." 

\--- 

"I'm still your teacher." Daryl says after the longest pause Glenn can take. 

"But it's fucking Saturday." 

Daryl smiles at him and Glenn literally melts in those arms. 

\--- 

"Ain't you got a prom to go to?" Daryl asks him. 

"I don't have a date." Glenn shrugs. The cat has shown up, rubbing its back against his leg. 

And this must be fake. His lips starts to shake. Daryl says, "Well in that case, I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, and don't say maybe. I was a teenager once, baby, like you." 

\--- 

So Mr. Dixon, Daryl, whichever, hadn't been packing to go anywhere after all. He says he had to go Friday, wait in line to buy tickets because the online reservation had been eaten up. He hadn't been texting; he'd been trying to get his hands on the tickets on ebay to no success. Glenn can't help but smile when it is revealed the detentions have been a ruse to ask him to a concert (doesn’t matter if he's never heard a single Iron Maiden song before). And he'd been looking for his old Iron Maiden tee shirt all day. Thus the boxes pulled from the attic, the haphazard living room, and his not giving a shit about Glenn not being in his class this week. 

"Actually, I did care. I wanted to ask you but you weren't around." Daryl says to him, pulling on this old sleeveless tee shirt so faded he can't tell if it says Iron Maiden or something else. It doesn't matter because he looks too good in it. Glenn accepts the motorcycle helmet with a big smile. 

"Was this what you wanted?" Glenn asks. 

"I take what I want. I hope you learn something from this." 

Glenn wraps his arms around Daryl's neck. Their mouths are only an inch apart. "What if I said no?" 

Daryl pulls him into a sloppy but firm kiss. Glenn sighs happily. 

"I take what I want. And you... You'll learn what you've been missin'." 

\--- 

The motorcycle rumbles down the darkening street. Glenn's arms are tight around the leather-vested torso. There are limousines and cars all over the streets, all heading towards the school. But this is so much better. This is what he wants right now, and he'll take all that is offered. He can't wait to tell Andrea and Amy. 

"By the way," Glenn shouts over the loud engine when they're stopped at a traffic signal. "Do you know what happened at the game that Friday?" 

"Flash dance!" 

"What?!" 

The motorcycle gears up and is roaring down the street. Glenn fishes out his phone from his pocket. He pushes some buttons and gets to the text message screen. He scrolls down some to last week, the after school where his phone would not stop buzzing in his pants. There are about forty messages to him informing him of a Flash Dance during the game. 

"It didn't go so well!" Daryl shouts back to him, laughing behind his helmet. 

\--- 

Glenn is congratulated by the sisters on Monday. Andrea wants details about sex with a teacher. Glenn blushes saying there hadn't been any. He has to admit to some really heavy making out, but Andrea squeals nonetheless. 

Glenn finally gets the details out of Amy. All the kids had been informed but at the last minute, had decided to call it off. So texts were floating all over the bleachers. The only one who hadn't been informed was the Mascot. The squirrel had run down the field in the middle of the game, dancing, and then literally stripped the outfit off. The whole field broke out in laughter. It had turned out Jimmy had been absent with a stomach flu. The girls had persuaded Shane the cop to take Jimmy's place. He'd flashed everyone that night. Of course, the squirrel head stayed on, letting him remain anonymous. But Mr. Grimes had known right away who the squirrel really was. 

"That's why you got grounded? Flash dance?" Glenn is appalled. 

"No! I got grounded for something totally unrelated to that!" Amy is laughing. Glenn prods until Amy slaps him on his arm (a little too hard) but she doesn't tell. He instead asks about Andrea's new boyfriend. 

"I don't know. Philip or something." She doesn't know as much as he wants but that is still satisfying. 

"By the way, Glenn, did you get to ask Mr. Dixon what kind of ass-kissing he really wants from you?" 

Glenn runs away from his friend, saying he's late for class. He sits in the back row next to Maggie who's working on her graduation speech instead of taking notes. He's staring at her with his chin propped on his hand. He feels sort of sorry for her and all the work she has to do. Then Mr. Dixon barks his name. 

"Yes?" 

"See me after class today." 

Glenn doesn't miss the hint of a smirk on his lips.


End file.
